


Fractured Fractals

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Nonbinary Character, Some Comfort But Not Enough, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: A mission gone wrong (so, so wrong) leaves everyone shaken and floundering in the aftermath. However, it's her job to put the pieces back together. She can, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surfacage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surfacage/gifts).



> Just in case you guys forgot that I'm historically more proficient in Angst™ than I am fluff. 
> 
> As always, please be sure to send [surfacage](http://www.surfacage.net/) all your love and support! ❤

“How are they?”

“I… don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“They’ve locked themselves in their room. My keycard won’t open it, so that tells me they tampered with the system. Again. They’ve also turned off all electronics… Or destroyed them.”

“I see.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve overridden their locks. Go to them, Agent. I sense they will be willing to talk to you.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Oh, and Amelie? I need them up and functioning as soon as possible. We have a timetable to keep.”

“... Understood.”

\---

Amelie stood outside Noire’s room, staring at the nameplate blankly. Her hand was raised, hovering indecisively in front of the steel in a half-formed fist.

Did one knock in this situation? Should she even bother?

Nothing was right at this point. She tired (beyond exhausted, honestly) and she _really_ didn’t want to have to deal with this. She was barely keeping it together herself. How on Earth was she going to help put her emotionally stunted boss back together?!

But orders were orders.

She sighed, rolled her shoulders, and opened the door.

Noire’s living room was _chaos_. Amelie had to stand still in the doorway, almost impressed with the amount of damage had been done to the furniture. Calculations and to-be filed damage reports came to mind immediately and she blew out a resigned sigh. The future was bleak and filled with paperwork, as per usual.

She tiptoed through the wreckage, frowning at the broken fragments of glass glittering between the splinters of wood and bent metal, and made her way toward the bedroom. There weren’t any traces of blood, so that was a good sign. The door was cracked open, thankfully still on its hinges, but she had to pause and steady herself before peering in.

Noire’s Eevee chirped at her from the bed, intelligent brown eyes glittering. Amelie acknowledged her with a small nod, noting how mussed her fur had become. Poor thing had been weathering the brunt of storm, as it were, for nearly two days now and looked as tired as Amelie felt.

The form next to the fluffy brown Pokemon (half-covered in blankets) moved, bleary green eyes cracking open.

“Amelie,” Noire croaked in greeting, sitting up. They rubbed at their bloodshot eyes, running a hand through their hair and scowling when they encountered tangles. The silvery locks looked damp, which gave Amelie a small sliver of hope that they’d at least been keeping care of themselves enough to shower.

(Though, knowing them, they’d probably taken one just to hide their tears.)

“Boss,” she replied, stepping further into the room. The bedroom was also the scene of a in-house tornado, but at least everything was still in one piece. It seemed like Noire had unpacked the entirety of the linen closet on their bed in a blanket-fort-nest thing - a godawful mess of sleek, black, company-issued cotton and cute, pastel, Pokemon-printed fleece.

It would be amusing if it were any time other than now.

“How the fuck did you get in?” they asked, frowning at her.

“How do you think?” she shot back.

Noire blinked, comprehension slowly dawning on them. “Auntie Sabrina needs to mind her own business,” they grumbled, huffing out an unhappy breath. That they’d slipped and referred to her with the familial term in Amelie’s presence was both touching and depressing.

“Executive Sabrina is concerned about your wellbeing,” Amelie replied, “As are we all.”

“I’m _fine_.”

She raised a brow at them, looking back over her shoulder pointedly, the motion further dramatized by the fact she had to move her head that much farther for her lack of an eye.

“... mostly,” they conceded, frowning when she snorted.

“Right,” she said, sighing and walking back out of the bedroom. “One second.”

“Where are you going?”

“Relax, Boss. I’m just getting you a glass of water - if any of your cups survived.”

“Oh.”

The kitchenette hadn’t been spared the tantrum. Her fingers itched to grab a broom and at least sweep the glass off to one side, but she sensed that time was of the essence. Not to mention she was still wearing her boots so it made little difference for her.

There was only one cup not in pieces that remained and Amelie’s heart hurt to see it was the Eevee-shaped mug she’d bought Noire for their last birthday. It was an ugly, off-model thing (likely left in the kiln too long, judging by its hilariously semi-melted features) she’d found at a thrift store and given to them in an attempt to show that even Eevees could be made unappealing. Too bad Noire adored it unironically and used it so often that the rim had begun to chip.

It still held water well enough, at least.

“Thanks,” Noire grunted at her when she returned, reaching out one hand to take the mug, the other still looped around their Eevee.

Amelie looked at the poor thing and sighed, taking pity on her for her burden. She reached for the Pokeball on her belt, releasing her Ninetales with a flick of her wrist. The large fox-shaped Pokemon shook herself, tails twitching when she looked at the three others curiously.

“Vivi, up,” she said, gesturing to the bed. Noire shifted to one side as the Ninetales jumped up and made herself comfortable, sighing happily when her tails curled around them and leaning against her back. She licked at their face, smearing old tear-streaks with a swipe of her tongue and making them chuckle tiredly as they lifted a hand to half-heartedly push her away.

Their Eevee escaped while they were distracted, shaking herself and trotting to the edge of the bed. Amelie reached down to run a hand through her fur, wrinkling her nose at how the salt had hardened some of it to spikes. She mewed at Amelie, jumping off the bed and heading toward the bathroom.

“She has food in there,” Noire explained, rubbing at their face to wipe off the slobber.

“Where’s _your_ food?”

They jerked their chin toward the small, discreet mini-fridge in the corner of their bedroom. Technically it wasn’t supposed to be there (or anywhere, really), but being an Executive had its perks.

“... That’s where you keep all your junk food, Boss.”

Amelie sighed when all Noire did was blink at her innocently. At least they had been eating _something_.

She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipping her boots and kicking them off. Petting Vivi’s head, she scooted further onto the blanket nest, shoving Noire over a bit when they resisted making room for her (just to contrary, she was sure).

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.”

“Why?”

Amelie shot them a mild glare, leaning back against her Ninetales’ side. “You know why.”

Noire frowned, working their jaw. They looked away from her, distracting themselves by picking at the fraying edges of one of the fleece blankets - a faded pink one that, if she was seeing things correctly, was littered with an obnoxiously childish yellow star and dancing Wigglytuff pattern.

(Where they got these things she would never know.)

“Boss,” she said, reaching over to grab their chin and pull their face back toward her, “Talk.”

“Don’t wanna,” they grumbled, trying and failing the pull out of her grasp. “Let go!”

“You have to talk to someone about what happened, about what we saw...” she sighed, repressing a shiver, “Everyone else in the squad already has. You’re the odd one out.”

“Everyone else?” Noire perked up, their eyes gleaming. “How are they? I didn’t get a chance to-”

“Boss.”

“ _Please_ , Amelie,” they said, the sudden pleading tone in their voice making her pause, “I _need_ to know they’re okay.”

Amelie considered telling them the truth. Maybe they’d feel reassured in their own freakout to know Kenma had gone nonverbal for the last 42 hours. Maybe knowing Sugawara and Akaashi had been given special permission to have off-duty leave would make them feel better about their own seclusion. Maybe hearing that Iwaizumi had needed to climb up the scaffolding in the main training gym and talk Kageyama down from a panic attack would help them sleep better at night.

Maybe. But not likely.

“They’re fine,” she said, the lie coating her tongue like poison. She released their chin and slung an arm around their shoulders, pulling them into a tight side-hug so they couldn’t see her face. “We’re all fine.”

Noire leaned against her without hesitation, their arm circling her waist and tightening their already snug embrace. Their head rested against her neck, their breath tickling the hollow of her collarbones as they sighed. They seemed to accept her assessment, trusting her completely in a way that hurt more than it sickened her.

They sniffed, swallowing harshly and biting their lip, green eyes hooded and dark.

She knew the signs, knew that they were trying to will themselves into speaking. It was hard for her boss to admit they needed help, that they needed council and support just like anyone else. Always so stubborn, living with the idea that they could stand on their own - perhaps, even believing that they _had_ to.

Amelie understood why they’d needed to be assigned an assistant (read: a glorified babysitter) for that attitude. Well, among other reasons, of course.

“Did you see it?” they whispered finally, voice taunt with trepidation, dry like the rustling of leaves, “Did you see it, Amelie? What happened? What I did - what I was _doing_ to him- ” Noire choked, turning slightly so they could hide their face in her neck.

“Yes, Boss. I saw it.” Amelie said, her voice suddenly just as hushed, just as pained, “I was there. It’s really not that...”

“‘It’s really not that’ what, Amelie? Bad? _Horrible_?” they exploded, making her jump. “You were there, so you know how it feels! What if it happens again?!” They struggled to sit up, but her arm on their shoulders kept them close.

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that!” Noire’s expression was fierce, terrified in a way that unnerved her. “You can’t possibly know that! What if, next time, it’s _Blanche_?! What then?!”

“Noi-”

“I can’t-” they cut themselves off, voice cracking, folding in on themselves. She could feel them shaking and pulled them closer, tucking their face against her neck and resting her chin on their head. Tears were hot on her skin and she made soothing noises, rubbing circles on their back. Vivi let out a concerned whine, tails twitching.

“I can’t do it if it’s them, Amelie. Not even even that Valor bitch deserves that sort of- Not like that.” They drew in a sharp, pained breath. “I can’t- I just- _Fuck_!”

Normally, Amelie would try and lighten the mood by teasing them for caring about an enemy, for unraveling so quickly at the thought of hurting someone they hated bitterly. But she could still see it so clearly, the image burned into the back of her eyelid rushing forward every time she closed her eye--

_The setup had been perfect. Spark was alone, his Pokemon defeated and recalled to their Pokeballs to avoid further damage. He and Zapdos were fighting together - him wailing on Noire while the bird itself battled the Rocket grunts assigned to slow it down long enough for the Executive to get a clear shot._

_Spark had flung Noire against a pillar just in time for Zapdos to escape from the grunts, zipping back toward its bonded human with a victorious cry. He reached out a hand, expression bloodied but elated, as the great thunder titan approached. The air shimmered, tinting yellow, and it became apparent they meant to merge together again and steal away Team Rocket’s brief window of opportunity._

_“Oh no you don’t!” Noire growled, pushing themselves up and staggering away from what was now a pile of rubble where a pillar had once stood, “You’re not escaping that easily!” They’d held up the hand that was armed with the Red Chain, tracking the bird’s descent, and fired._

_That’s when it had all gone to hell._

_Zapdos saw the chain launch at it and tried to pull out of its dive to dodge the attack. It was mostly successful, avoiding getting surrounded by the majority of the chain with the exception of its left wing. The brilliant crimson links lassoed the limb, a horrible_ **_crunch_ ** _sounding, yellow and black feathers sparking and falling to the ground. One of the squad members had let out a triumphant whoop at the bird’s hoarse, pained cry._

_But it was not a victory._

_Zapdos had already halfway merged into its leader, liquid yellow light gleaming and malformed lightning shooting off as the two limbs, two bodies, intersected. It struggled, trying to beat its half-dissolved right wing to get away from the chain, claws raking against Spark’s back and making them both cry out in pain._

_Bolts fired from where they were fused, gouging the ground in all directions, sparks raining from the team leader’s entire right arm - the one he had raised to greet his bond._

_Spark had stumbled, body hunched over, agony written all over his face. His eyes bled pure gold, glazed with no pupils visible, blood pouring from his mouth and nose and splattering on the ground. Chest heaving, he struggled to stand, arm disfigured by whatever force bound him to Zapdos, sharing its pain and being powerless to stop it._

_Less a man, not quite a beast - flickering between the two and in a horrible, twisted amount of pain._

_His jacket and gloves had been long since abandoned for his previous fight, and Amelie had watched in horror as the fractal burn mark on his right palm grew, crackling and arcing further up his arm and twisting across his shoulder, up even further still to carve paths on one side of his neck - fragmenting his torn shirt into thin, burnt wisps as he and his titan struggled to either merge or separate._

_She couldn’t be sure which would’ve produced the most disastrous outcome at that point._

_Worst of all was the screaming: Two voices, a man and a titan’s, overlapping without end, thunderous and raw with unfiltered suffering. It had reverberated in her ears, made her very teeth ache. Echoing, always echoing, intensifying with each ragged breath, each booming heartbeat, all together bursting forth in a cacophony of sound and electricity and_ **_pain_** _._

 _Amelie wasn’t one to have a bleeding heart. But you could only withstand so much hearing the sound of something, some_ _one_ _, screaming out as though their very_ **_soul_ ** _was being ripped from their body._

_Her breath had been stolen by the hurricane winds the unnatural, conglomerate being summoned, buffeting her and forcing her to her knees. The other squad members weren’t fairing much better, some trying in vain to cover their ears or eyes. But always, always, did they face the breaking team leader, bearing witness to his and the bird’s suffering._

_Only Noire remained standing._

_Just barely._

_Their eyes had shone a telling venomous shade of magenta, hair whipping in the gale. Their stance was tense, arm stretched taunt with the chain, the other hand grasping their own wrist. They struggled, snarling and locked in their own solo fight against the two half-beings._

_But she saw the visceral horror in their eyes, the way their hands shook._

_A pillar of fire and a spear of ice had suddenly struck the chain together, damaging its integrity just enough for Zapdos to shake free and finish submerging into Spark’s body. The team leader collapsed to the ground, limp as the dead. For a moment, she’d wondered if that would have been a mercy after all he’d been through._

_Mystic’s leader ran to him from a side entrance, a platoon of theirs trainers hot on their heels as they scooped him up in their arms. Blood stained their immaculate blue coat, terror in their eyes as they pressed a hand to his neck. There was relief on all sides when their expression cleared, calling out to their fellow team leader that he still lived as she stalked toward the Rockets._

_Candela strode toward them with the fury of a thousand suns, eyes bleeding red as she ordered her_ _Arcanine to use another flamethrower attack_ _._

_Noire had shaken themselves out of their stupor, barking out an order for a full retreat in the nick of time. They’d managed to escape to a makeshift rendezvous for an emergency evac, all the while the shrieks of Spark and Zapdos still rang in their ears._

Amelie sucked in a quick breath, opening her eye and blinking away the memories. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed it.

It was disorienting to suddenly remember she was safe and curled up on her boss’s bed, cuddling with a Pokemon and an overgrown toddler. She breathed, relieved beyond words to taste the familiarly dry, recycled air on her tongue instead of the tang of electrifying blood.

Noire peered up her, a concerned look to their eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Tears still rolled down their cheeks, clinging to their eyelashes. She reached out, gently wiping them away, clucking her tongue when they grimaced and tried to pull back.

“I’m… fine, Boss. Just tired.” But the tremors in her tone (and hands) must have given her away because they frowned.

“Amelie,” they said, voice hardening, “Don’t lie to me.”

(Of all the times for them to start being perceptive.)

She forced herself to meet their eyes. “Really, I’m fine. I’ve just been dealing with the fallout from this by myself because _someone_ decided to lock themselves in their room. The paperwork alone makes me want to set something on fire. Or drink until all the bureaucratic bullshit actually makes sense.”

Noire had the decency to look abashed.

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that. I forgot about the paperwork...”

“Somehow, I very much doubt that,” Amelie said, almost snorting at the offended look they sent her, “Are you ready to face the world or do you need to talk more?” She was almost surprised at how gentle her own voice sounded. There was no point in delaying, after all - timetables to keep and whatnot.

“I...” Noire looked away, biting the inside of their cheek. She resisted the urge to scold them for the bad habit. “I’d kind of like to stay in here.”

“Boss.”

“Just for a little while longer!” they pleaded. Their Eevee jumped back onto the bed, surprising them both. She chirped, nose twitching, before she bolted across the covers and crawled back into Noire’s lap, looking at them with glittering brown eyes. They put their other arm around her, chuckling weakly when she instantly tried to lick away their tears.

“Fine,” Amelie relented, sliding her arm off their shoulders and shifting to crawl out of the bed. “I’ll go let Executive Sabrina-” She paused when Noire’s arm curled tighter around her waist, looking at them in annoyance.

“Bo-”

“Stay?” they asked, voice rough, “Just for tonight?”

She hesitated. “... It’s the middle of the day.”

They had such a vulnerable expression, their Eevee tossing in her own pleading look. Even Vivi looked reluctant to leave, and she notoriously hated these sorts of things. Amelie sighed, resigned to her fate.

Ugh, she was weak.

\---

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The IV bag needed to be changed. Hopefully soon - that repetitive noise was getting annoying.

Machines whirred, beeping and keeping track of each heartbeat, every breath recorded as something of worth. Proof of life. The AC was on, blowing cool, sterile air into the room, ruffling his hair and the sheets. Nurses talked softly just outside the door, voices drifting in and carrying the muffled diagnosis.

Severe nerve damage.

Extensive electrical scarring.

Possible cardiovascular degeneration.

Bruises and cuts littered basically everywhere on his body thanks to his fight with Noire. His back hurt the worst, like great claws had gouged him (not far from the truth, actually), stinging slightly where it was pressed into the mattress. Bandages wrapped all around his torso, breath constricted so as to not aggravate the bruised ribs on his left side. There also was a bone-deep ache in his right shoulder, tingling at the edges, and then… And then nothing.

A hysterical thought: It would almost be better to have a broken wing than an arm that could neither move nor feel.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Another thought, less hysterical and more malicious: How was he going to strangle the life out of that fucking Team Rocket Executive with only one hand?

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

“Well,” it said to no one in particular, opening Spark’s eyes to stare at the ceiling, irises gleaming an unnatural yellow, “Time to get creative, I guess.”


End file.
